


Do This in Memory of Me

by cymbalism



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blasphemy, M/M, Religious Themes & References, Season/Series 06, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-29
Updated: 2011-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-24 01:24:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/257309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cymbalism/pseuds/cymbalism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has found a way to end Heaven's war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do This in Memory of Me

**Author's Note:**

> Not what Jesus and the Catholic church had in mind. Am probably going to Hell. Also, not kidding about the sad. But it's not character death! More like planned character self-sacrifice? Allusion to the events of 6.18.

Castiel lays bare beneath Dean on the motel bed, their only cover the night's dark. Dean smoothes his calloused hands up the length of Castiel's arms, gathers Castiel's two hands in one of his, and holds him there, stretched out and bound like a lamb upon an altar.

It is fitting, Castiel thinks.

 _We pray that this sacrifice may be acceptable to God, the almighty father._

The room is silent except for Dean's breath and occasional whisper, hot against Castiel's skin. Dean's free hand traces down Castiel's throat, his chest. He cups his palm around and over Castiel's sex and Castiel's body responds—rejoices, revels—at Dean's touch.

Lips follow in the wake of hands, gentle and reverent against his neck, his collarbone. There is no hurry. This is not the first communion of their bodies, and Dean does not know it will be their last.

Dean's forehead presses to his, all his effort concentrated on pleasuring Castiel and the pleasure he derives from it in return. He pulls back and searches out eye contact.

Dean doesn't know that there is a plan in place. That after tomorrow he will no longer need to fight. That he will be free of heaven forever. Castiel did not and will not tell him.

There is much Castiel has not told him.

He pulls a hand free and shushes Dean's unspoken questions with two fingers against his lips. He cannot do what Dean would demand of him—explain, console, convince. Solve.

He returns his hand to Dean's grip. With a steady stare and brush of his body, he asks Dean to continue, to partake of him, to imbibe. To do this, once more.

Dean relents with a breathless moan and pushes his own hard length against Castiel. He presses his mouth to Castiel's, full and eager, and Castiel accepts the plunge of Dean's tongue, rolls his hips in time with Dean's stroking hand.

He the reason for this war, and so he will be its end. His sacrifice is his solution.

 _May the Lord accept the sacrifice at your hands—_

He is frightened that the war will not end after he is gone, that he will have given himself to no avail. There is no way to be certain any longer that one action will lead to the one desired outcome. Without God's plan, without fate, there can be no certainty. And demons are never to be trusted.

Dean travels down Castiel's body, leaving possessive marks along the way. He grips the flesh of Castiel's hips and takes him in wholly, completely. Castiel bucks into the heat of Dean's mouth but is held down by firm hands. Dean lets off with amused grin, pleased by Castiel's uncontrolled show of desire, that Castiel should want him so strongly. Castiel can no longer recall a time on this earth he did not want Dean.

The demon Crowley had made an offer—if Castiel sent him to Purgatory, Crowley would marshal his newly conquered forces of unclaimed souls to help Castiel defeat Raphael. There would, of course, be a price.

Teasing—always teasing—Dean laves the sensitive tip with the flat of his tongue, wraps his lips around the head and applies suction. Castiel buries his fingers in Dean's short hair and grips, hard.

"I'd do the job myself, y'see, but that would pop me right back to where I came from, what with suicide being such a nasty sin and all," Crowley had explained. "No, the way to do this right is to get good and smited." And then he'd smiled, slow and shrewdly. "But waging a war on Heaven's a might more tricky than killing one little demon. S'not exactly a fair trade, is it? And what makes you so sure I'll stick my precious neck out for you once I've got what I want? Let's say you buy yourself a little insurance . . ."

Desperate to prevent total destruction, Castiel made a deal with a demon for the small price of his soul. An angel's soul, his grace.

A very different kind of desperation is now pooling low in his abdomen, hot and thrilling.

Castiel's fingers stroke across the hollow of Dean's cheek. He bites his lip and closes his eyes.

The Winchesters taught him the difference one life can make. At this point, it seems a small price to pay given the wage of war in Heaven and the cost to humanity—given what freedom is worth. And Castiel still believes in freedom, believes that it is, somehow, what God would want.

 _\--for the praise and glory of his name, for our good, and the good of all his church._

Dean slides back into place beside Castiel and kisses him, sharing the dark taste of Castiel's arousal. He tucks a hand around the underside of Castiel's knee, and Castiel obeys, lifting his leg to Dean's broad shoulder. Dean reaches down between them, beneath Castiel's exposed body.

In the beginning, Castiel kept Dean and his brother at a distance to protect them. Without destiny's script, they had no more parts to play. This was no longer their war.

A thick, slick finger slips inside his body, exquisite. Castiel's breath catches in his throat. His muscles tense. Dean curses encouragement.

It's no longer their war, but Castiel knows that is not the only—the true—reason he has stayed away, why he lied to Dean. No, that he did to prevent Dean from attempting to stop him.

Castiel's body opens under the command of Dean's touch. He's losing control of his breath, his movements. He speaks Dean's name and feels Dean shudder, hears Dean's needy groan.

If anything is inevitable now, it is this.

Dean's knowing fingers crook firm against the explosive spot inside him.

 _Lift up your hearts— We lift them up to the Lord._

Castiel arches. His chest thrusts upward as his head rolls back, mouth open but words gone.

Castiel has learned. He has lived. He has experienced more than any angel in heaven.

He has rescued the righteous man from the clutches of Hell, stared down Satan, rebelled against his brethren. He has known doubt and pain, loss and lust. He has learned to drink, to lie, to love.

And for all these things he cannot be anything but grateful.

Dean's fingers press again, harder.

So grateful.

 _Let us give thanks to the Lord our God— It is right to give him thanks and praise._

Castiel writhes under Dean's hands, overwhelmed, reverent with awe. He moans and Dean chases the sound, leaning forward, spreading Castiel wide, licking into his open mouth.

Dean readjusts, shifts closer, hikes Castiel's hips higher.

He pushes in, and Castiel exults.

 _Hosanna. Hosanna in the highest._

Castiel is unworthy of this bliss, this act—of Dean, this righteous man.

He has soiled his grace with demon soot. He has killed his brothers and sisters, slain his own comrade-in-arms, all to keep his terrible secret safe. He does not deserve this.

But he wants it. Would give—has given—everything for it.

 _And so, Father, we bring you these gifts. We ask you to make them holy._

Castiel is sorry for what he has done, for the sins he has committed, and his soul begs for forgiveness as his body begs for Dean.

Dean whispers his name in praise and in prayer, and it feels like redemption.

 _Through him, with him, in him. In the unity of the holy spirit._

Castiel clutches at Dean's back, and Dean folds in close. Dean holds each thrust and the sensation fills Castiel like grace overflowing. He gives himself over to it, to Dean, and the bright edge of orgasm slices into his body.

Dean feels it as Castiel does, his climax urged on by Castiel's rough demand for Dean to do this, do it for him. Castiel arches up, Dean bears down, and they meet in one holy moment, both coming together and falling apart.

Dean collapses onto Castiel, forehead rolling against the ridge of his shoulder. They breathe against each other, chests heaving.

After a moment Dean shifts to the side and pulls Castiel to curl toward him. He strokes Castiel's body aimlessly, running a hand down his back, over his hip. Castiel closes his eyes.

 _This is my body, which will be given up for you._

The world is spinning, slipping away. He is tired, but he won't stay the night.

Castiel lays still and feels blood pound thick and slow through veins that were never truly his.

 _This is the cup of my blood, the blood of the new and everlasting covenant._

He has a promise to keep. One angel's grace to save Heaven, preserve Hell.

 _It will be shed for you and for all, so that sins may be forgiven._

Dean cups his hand to Castiel's face and kisses him. Sorrow grips Castiel's chest so tight he breaks off with a wince. It is dark and Dean is fast falling to sleep. He does not see.

Castiel skims two fingers over Dean's brow, and follows them with a kiss—a benediction, a plea.

 _Do this in memory of me._

A goodbye.

\- end –

**Author's Note:**

>  **Notes on the religious stuff:**  
>  The words in italics are the [Liturgy of the Eucharist](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mass_\(liturgy\)#Liturgy_of_the_Eucharist%22), recited by the priest and congregation during the consecration of the host in the Catholic Mass. I shortened the Sanctus (the hosanna part) and edited out a bit of the Institution Narrative about the Last Supper. And I apologize if anyone is appalled by turning the consecration of most Blessed Sacrament into porn. I feel like this is a thing SPN fandom does to people, the accidental religious kink.
> 
>  **Notes on the fandom stuff:**  
>  OH MY GOD I DON'T WANT CAS TO DIE. In my head, Dean figures everything out the next day and puts a big damn halt to it all and saves Cas the way Cas saved him and everything ends up happy, maybe with some how-could-you-be-so-stupid? sex. Okay? Okay.


End file.
